


Goodbye, Molly

by Bodhicitta



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Sherlock Series 4 Spoilers, Sherlock Series 4 episode 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bodhicitta/pseuds/Bodhicitta
Summary: Random thoughts on the Season Four trailer.This will be edited and added to ad nauseam - sorry!(note added later) - I'm sorry more of you don't like this.  I was trying to do something to make peace with what I think is going to happen, and the only thing I can fathom is that the actress who we all adore, LB, continues to have an illustrious career and fulfill all her hopes and dreams.This is also an homage to my girl crush on Louise Brealey, and how my obsession with Benedict Cumberbatch has morphed into a complete love affair with Loo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherlolly Fans](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sherlolly+Fans).



The actress hung up the white lab coat, took out her cell phone, and snapped a few last photos for mementos. Spied the ponytail wig and took a photo of that, too.  

Said goodbye to Mark, let Rupert (that dapper silver fox - he had been quite the sex symbol in his time) give her a peck on the cheek.

Stepped outside, and immediately saw a stunning Irish Setter who could not be allowed to pass unmolested.  Snapped a photo.

Uploaded the photos of the dog and the lab coat and the wig to Twitter, Instagram.

Hailed a cab.  Burst into tears.

The driver turned around and handed her some tissues.  "Why are you crying, ma'am?"

Loo sniffed.  "End of an era."

***

"Why are you crying?"  Ben stepped closer, leaned in, reached out with both hands (hands as big as oven mitts), and cradled her face.  

That hadn't been in the script.

"Molly...answer me."

"Ben, there's something I have to tell you."

"Cut!"

Loo cleared her throat.  "Sorry."

As the crew reset the scene, Ben grinned at Loo. "What do you think about _'Collette.'_ "

"I think you are mad."

"Yes, I am....but what do you think about _'Collette?'_ "

"Action!"

Loo dropped her head, cast her eyes down.  "Sherlock, there's something I have to tell you."

Ben swayed his body closer to her.  The odor wafting up from his torso engulfed her senses - aftershave, mint toothpaste, baby vomit, Sophie's cologne (Coco?  Allure?), and coffee.

"Is he blackmailing you?"

She shook her head, gulped down her sobs.

"Did you...can you...can you speak?"

She shook her head.  Reached into her pocket. Pulled the prop gun out. Pointed it at him.  Her hand shook.

"Were you that angry with me - was I that....awful?  I know I said some horrible things, but don't you think you're taking this a bit far?"

Ben deftly extricated the gun from her hand.  Tossed it off camera.

Loo looked directly into his eyes.  Not Sherlock's eyes - _Ben's_ eyes.  

"Once.  Just once would have been nice."

Ben coined an expression of confusion - was she talking about Sherlock....or...

"Oh," he muttered.

"Cut!"

 ***

At home, Loo checked her voice mail, her e-mail, her texts, her Facebook messages.  Put on a pot of tea.  

_Lunch tomorrow.  P.S. That's not a request! - Amanda._

_Call me - they want you for Lady MacBeth. - Marie._

_Call your father - Dad._

_I miss you - Ben._

_Loo.  Wes Anderson called. Call right away. - Marie._

_My parents want you to come for dinner - me._

_Your dry cleaning is ready._

_I'm going to Copenhagen for the weekend.  Come with? - me._

_How annoyed would you be if we named her Louise? - Sofe._

_We're not naming her Louise.  I like Constance. - Ben._

Loo chuckled.  Tapped out a reply: _Christopher and Constance Cumberbatch?  Have you lost your mind?_

_Yes of course I've lost my mind but that was a long time ago - Ben._

_I think you should let your wife choose the name this time, don't you?  P.S. My fee is 100 quid.  - your therapist (Loo)._

***

At the hair dresser.

"What shall we do?"

"A pixie cut, short, like Twiggy.  Like Charlize Theron, Halle Berry, Hillary Swank."

"I agree."  

The stylist pulled her locks into a tight ponytail, opened the blades, and just before she mercilessly cut it all off, Loo averted her eyes.

 ***

"I won't do it."  Loo stared into Andrew's cold blank eyes and tried not to crack up.  She had five quid riding on her ability to make it through this scene without bursting into giggles.  He wasn't helping - the faintest bit of a grin played about his lips, and he winked at her.

"Then you will die, Miss Hooper.  A horrible, excruciating death.  As will everyone you love."

She stared at Andrew.  Wiped the snot off of her nose.  Off camera, Ben snorted.  She collapsed into paroxysms.

"Cut!"  Steven yelled.  "Okay, when you children grow up, please let the rest of us know."

***

"Molly, just tell me this - how long.  How long have you been working for him?  How long have you been playing this game?"

"It's not a game, Sherlock.  It's not a game."

"But...I trusted you.  You were the one who counted the most."

 "All hearts will be broken.  Even yours, Sherlock Holmes."

***

The career of an actor is short.  Mercurial.  Unreliable.  She had invested well, saved her pennies, refused to move out of the same flat where she had been living for almost a decade.  Refused to spend money on fancy clothes.  And that pair of blue shoes - the ones that Ben insisted she buy so they would look like brother and sister - she wore them into the ground.  Patched the holes in them, replaced the laces - twice. She did well from _Sherlock_ , and a few plays, small movie parts.  And there was the offer to join the faculty of her alma mater as an adjunct.  That would help....provide some security.

Maybe a Ph.d., a professorship?  Teach drama, feminist literary theory, history of women's rights....

There was time for all that.  But later.

She pulled her journal out.  Began writing.  

_INT. A FACTORY_

_Donna wipes the sweat off of her brow, smiles wanly to herself.  She has five more hours of work  She is a hard worker, but exhausted._

Her stylist begins to apply Loo's usual hue to her hair.  Loo stops her.

"How about black?  Jet black. It's time for a change."

The stylist stepped away to mix the dye and locate some deep conditioner.

Loo regarded her newly shorn head. Briefly wonders what Ben will think.  Shoos the thought away.   _Married, married, married._

She continued writing.

A screenplay. About men, and women. Contemporary relationships. The age old question - can men and women be friends?

Earlier that day, Steven had confessed, "You know, 'Molly' is _me_.  You know that, right?  Ever since I was a kid, I've loved these stories.  I've always wanted to be in them, be a character.  You are my eyes - our eyes.  The reader."

Loo nodded.  "You know, when Mind Palace Molly started to happen, I started to think - she was never real.  She was only in his mind palace.  I started combing the scripts to see if any other characters actually saw her, spoke to her, interacted with her."

"We thought about that - making her a figment, purely in his mind.  Because..."

"Because she was never canonical."  Loo finished.

"Yes.  But then...you happened.  Louise Brealey.  The diminutive, adorable, feisty thing, who took Twitter by storm, and her legions of fans forbade us from making her a one off character.  You were supposed to walk in with a bowl of brains, and leave...."

"Thank you, Steven.  This has changed my life."

"And what about you?  Which character are you most like?

Loo hesitated, and then admitted, "You.   _The producer."_

Steven smirked and raised his eyebrow.  

Loo continued, "And speaking of which, I have an idea for a series to pitch to you."

Steven regarded the young actress, who never failed to surprise him, and then said, "Let's walk and talk, Ms. Brealey."

 


	2. Steven, You Bastard!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots more editing to come - sorry, it's what I do...

...is what Loo yelled as she stormed into Moffit's office.

He grinned broadly as the furious, tiny actress stomped towards his desk.

"You lied to me!" she screeched, hurling the script down on his desk.

He choked on his guffaws.

"Well...you didn't think we were going to tell you guys before the airing!"

_SIX MONTHS EARLIER_

Loo pointed the gun directly at Ben's temple.  She leaned in very close and whispered, "This is a war you certainly will lose."

Ben sniffed.  "First it was a game.  Now it's a war.  Define your terms."

Loo chuckled, slinked her body around Ben-slash-Sherlock, sat in his lap.

Ben's eyebrows went up - that wasn't in the script.

Steven whispered, "I like it...."

Loo leaned into the tall, muscled, rangy actor's body, dropped one shoulder, allowing the spaghetti strap of her slinky black negligee to fall off of one soft shoulder.  She caressed Ben's cheekbones with the barrel of the gun.  

"Ah, me, it's been so much fun, slapping these cheekbones.  Surprising I didn't cut my hand on them."

"So happy to have provided you some amusement.  When exactly were you going to tell me you were working for..."

"The Woman?  When exactly were you going to tell me you were _doing_ her?"

"I never..."

"Now, now, now, Sherlock.  We both know that's not exactly true...."

Louise leaned in very closely, and traced the outline of Ben's ear with her tongue.  

"Hm."  She sat back, disappointed.  

"No?" he asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

Loo smirked, curled one edge of her mouth in disdain.

"You're not really _my type_."

And then she knocked him out "cold" with the butt of the gun.

Ben slumped to the floor, as Louise prepared to pounce on him, panther-like, and Steven yelled cut.

Louise lept to the floor, knelt down beside Ben who was sitting on his rump, holding himself up by one hand and massaging his jaw with the other.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.  Did I actually hit you?"

Ben shook his head until the curly black wig almost fell off.  Then his face exploded in a huge grin.

"Nah - just kidding!"

Louise smacked him on the shoulder.  She stood up, leaned over and offered Ben a hand up.  He nimbly sprang to his feet. 

As she made to leave, he pulled her back, knelt down at the waist, and kissed the back of her hand.  

"Thanks, milady."

Loo giggled.  "Stop it, Ben.  You'll turn my head."

He winked.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Louise's eyes grew wider and wider as she flipped through the extra pages of the script.

"Oh, crap."  

She leaned into the cabbie and gave him a change of direction.  

"Uh, I'll be needing to go to that, yes, that spa - right there. That's as good as any."

She jumped out, paid the driver, and entered the spa.

"Um, yeah, uh - I need a waxing."

"Yes, most certainly.  And what will you be having waxed today?"

Louise flipped to page 5, no, it was page 6.  Her cheeks turned maroon.

She looked up at the attendant through big brown lashes and squeaked,  "Uh...everything?"

 60 MINUTES LATER

Loo, writhing around under the covers with Laura Pulver, thought _there are definitely worse ways to make a living..._

The sound of a door opening, and she went still as a corpse.  Laura sat straight up, leaned back and put her glorious breasts on full view, of course covered - just barely - with modesty pasties because of the crew.

Through the sheet, she heard Ben-slash-Sherlock intone, "When you're quite done paying the rent could you come..."

Then he sniffed, loudly, exaggeratedly.

"What...what's that?"  

He pulled the sheet back dramatically, unveiling "Molly Hooper," resplendently nude.

"Hi, Sherlock!"

He blinked once, twice, three times.

"How did you know me by my smell?" she asked innocently, curling one long lock of hair in her fingers, as Irene leaned over the night table to fetch a cigarette.

"I pride myself on my olfactory prowess and... _why are you in bed with Irene Adler?"_


End file.
